The Twelve Days of Hetalia
by Rincer of Winds
Summary: "I've decided that my party will require everyone to come in pairs. You may come…  "stag", but you will be matched up at the party." He waved aside the cries of horror.  Rated T for Romano's mouth, and because it's better safe than sorry. Early christmas!
1. Chapter 1

This is a bit early for a Christmas fic, true, but It's going to be twelve chapters long, and I might do an epilouge, so I thought I should start posting now so it's all online by Christmastime. This idea just wouldn't leave me alone, and I finally gave in and decided to write it. There will be several pairings mentioned, and probably some drunk!England in later chapters. I hope you guys like this! I'm working on developing ideas for a Spain X Romano as I write this, so if updates aren't quite as regular as I usually try to make them I apologize in advance. Merry Early Christmas!

**I don't own Hetalia**.

Warnings: Eventual mentions (or more) of RussiaXCanada, UsXUk, SpainXRomano, GermanyXItaly, and brief cameos of other pairings. If any of these pairings offend you greatly, or if Romano's language offends you, stop now or forever hold your peace.

Reviews are appreciated, and any pairings you would like cameos of, lyric ideas for the story's accompanying song, or ideas you have for the plot line will be read and hopefully used in later chapters.

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_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

Canada rushed into the conference room, panting out, "Sorry I'm late, I just…" he trailed off when he saw that the meeting hadn't started. "Oh good, you held it for me?" he asked, surprised.

England looked up. "Ah, now that America's finally here we can begin." Canada slapped his forehead, and turned around to see America standing behind him. Really? Last time he checked he wasn't_ that_ transparent. Oh well…

America ran up to the podium, and grinned at the assembled countries. "Okay guys, I have an announcement!" The room looked at him with interest. "Christmas eve is in twelve days!" He cried, fingers spreading out into jazz hands on either side of his head.

The room was silent for a minute as they processed this. Finally, Germany stood. "Now that America has reminded us of the already well known date of Christmas, let's get down to business. Remember, only eight minutes a speech, and NO eating pasta during the meeting."

"I believe that what mon Amérique is trying to point out is that we still haven't picked a place for our Christmas party." Said France. He put an arm around England, and placed his other hand on the man's knee. "Perhaps it should be at my place, no?"

Ignoring the English man's cries for help and yelled insults, Germany nodded. "Sounds reasonable. Now then, let's get to work, we'll worry about the party once France sends out the invitations. Who would like to speak?" Italy raised his hand quietly. Germany groaned. "Germany recognizes his friend Italy."  
With a wide smile, Italy pointed to the clock, which was at twelve o'clock. "Time for paaaastaaaaa!"

And with that, Germany's carefully organized meeting went downhill at a ridiculous speed.

The lunch buffet was stormed, leaving only scraps for the few who dawdled behind to talk. Romano was holding a plate of tomatoes, while Spain followed behind him whispering something about tomatoes and blushing. England was insulting France, punching and kicking the man at every opportunity. America had produced a hamburger from who knows where, and was eating it as he cheered on England. Russia was talking to Canada in a desperate attempt to avoid his sister Belarus, who was standing behind them and smiling at Russia's back as Lithuania tried to talk to her.

All in all, a normal meeting.

When the lunch break was finally over, Germany managed to restore some order. "Now then, does anyone wish to say something?"

France smiled. "I've decided that my party will require everyone to come in pairs. You may come… "stag", but you will be matched up at the party." He waved aside the cries of horror. "It will be more fun, and ensure everyone has a dancing partner. Who knows, perhaps some will find traces of l'amour there! I shall have to provide special private rooms for those couples who get carried away, lost in each other's eyes and lusting for more than public will allow…"

"Shut up!" Yelled England, shoving his chair away from France's.

"England! Your hero will save you!" America called, diving toward the two superman style.

Germany buried his head in his hands. "Just… go. Meeting adjourned."

And in less than a minute, the room was empty except for two people.

France crossed his legs, and examined the ceiling. "Ah… this should be an interesting Christmas, no?"

Germany rubbed his eyes and stood. "Very. Um…" he looked away with a carefully blank face. "If we did come without a partner, would there be any way of ensuring you put us with someone? I mean, so we didn't have to ask them? I'm only asking so that you will think to plan these things of course." He added hurriedly.

Smirking, France nodded. "Oui… that could be arranged… for a price." Seeing Germany's expression, he sighed. "For the sake of true love then. I will pair you and your little Italian."

Nodding, Germany stood. "I'll be looking forward to receiving the invitation then."

"I expect them to be out today or tomorrow depending on the distance they must travel."

"That's good, they'll be out in plenty of time."

"Yes."  
Germany began to walk to the elevator, with France following. "Who are you going to ask?"

France shrugged. "My Angleterre seems to have found someone who catches his eye, so I have no one to ask. I will take my chances with my pairing system and trust that my soon-to-be partner and I will find love that night, caught in the heat of the moment he or she will turn to me and say-"

Germany closed the elevator doors in his face, attempting to clear his mind of the mental image France had produced. An interesting Christmas indeed…

_Attention Countries of the World!_

_You are invited to Une fête de Noël (A Christmas Party)_

_Where: France's House_

_When: December 25th, from 7pm to midnight (and later if you wish)_

_Everyone must come in pairs, or will be paired upon arrival. Music, Drinks, and Food will be provided. Gift bags will be passed out before departure. I hope to see you there and in the spirit!_

_Répondez S'il Vous Plaît_

_Francis_

_...An invitation to a perverse man's party._

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In every chapter I'll be doing lyrics to the twelve days of christmas set to the story. I don't own that song, but I did make up the variations.


	2. Chapter 2

I haven't been able to get on Fanfiction in forever, but I finally managed to update this! The next chapter will be coming soon, and updates should be much faster since Christmas break starts soon. A whole chapter (though a short one) dedicated to Spain X Romano! If you don't like the pairing, I've already told you I was doing it so you can jsut skip this chapter and move on. Oh, and Japan X China has been requested, so if you can't stand mentions of that pairing I am sorry, but it will be making a brief cameo in later chapters. Until next time, which will be dedicated to my country and his old guardian! US X UK forever!

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_On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_

"Romano, I can't take this much longer… can't you do it faster?"

"No I cannot just 'do it faster', art like this takes time you bastard!"

Spain sighed and propped his chin on the table. "But it smells so good…"

Romano turned from the oven, and glared at him. "Pasta takes time idiot, so be patient."

Pouting, Spain watched the Italian cook. Romano was smiling, a rare sight, and Spain loved seeing him look so happy. He leapt from pot to pot, stirring and sampling and seasoning. Romano was in his element when it came to pasta, and anyone could tell simply by looking.

"Why are you staring at me you bastard?"

Spain jolted out of his half-asleep stare. "Oh, no reason. You just looked happy."

"I'm happy all the time, there's no need for you to ogle me now." Said Romano, hands on his hips.

"But you so rarely smile Romano!" Said Spain. He dodged the tomato that came flying at him with a grin.

"Jackass. Why are you here anyway? You refused to tell me when you asked to come over for dinner."

Spain suddenly found his shoes very interesting. "Erm, no reason."

Romano turned back to his cooking. "This doesn't have something to do with that party of France's, does it?"

Spain gulped. "Well, we have been dating for a few weeks now Romano, so we should go together."

"Jackass, you know I hate parties!"

"But Romano, can't you just come to one?" Spain stood, and caught Romano from behind. "For me?" He whispered in his ear.

Romano turned bright red. "Bastard… fine. Fine, I'll go with you." He elbowed Spain in the stomach and broke free.

"Te amo, my little tomato." Spain said, smiling as he rubbed his stomach. He told Romano he loved him at least twice a day, and he was confident that someday he would say it return. Probably. It didn't stop him from saying it though.

"T… Te amo you bastard. Now then, the pasta's ready." Said Romano, still blushing.

Spain's jaw dropped. "You said it!" He cried, delighted. "Oh Romano, I knew you loved me!"

"Shut up! Or I'll never say it again!" Yelled Romano, throwing another tomato at the Spaniard's head.

They sat, and began to eat the spaghetti Romano had cooked. "It's wonderful." Said Spain, still smiling.

Romano frowned. "Oh please, don't lie. Everyone likes my brother's better. He's better at chores, art, trade, and he can be smarter than me, but I.,... but I… Chigi!" He slumped in his chair, glowering at the pasta in front of him.

Spain grinned. "Is that really what you think?" When silence was his only answer, he continued. "I've always liked you more than your brother. He was better behaved, it's true, but you had more spirit, and I didn't fight France and Turkey for him did I? I did it for you." He paused, but decided to say it. "I've always loved you."

Romano stayed silent for a minute, and then muttered, "Thanks."

Spain smiled even wider, eyes twinkling. "I love you. Not your brother. You."

Romano blushed once more, and Spain reveled in his ability to turn the man into a tomato. They continued eating in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, one shared by two who knew each other inside and out and no longer needed words to reassure them of that.

_Two confessions_

_And an invitation to a perverted man's party

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_For those of you who noticed, I did take Romano's list of faults from the delicious tomato song. Oh well, so I couldn't think of anything. Review or I'll send Romano to your house to eat all your tomatos and sing the delicious tomato song at you until you go insane!

_And it begins..._Buono! Tomato, buono! tomato, buono! buono! ooh! Tomato! Red on the bottom and green on the top, Toma-toma-tomato. Hmph!


	3. Chapter 3

Third chapter finally up! I'm working on the fourth now, it's up in another window as I upload this. I'll add it after this chapter gets a little attention, so if you want to see it today review! This is the longest chapter yet, they seem to be getting progressivly longer. I actually do like the songs mentioned, with the exception of the first one. I just enjoy mocking Alfred's culture, so please don't be offended by any of England's music critiques. Anyway, enough author's note, on with the story!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any songs mentioned in this chapter.

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_On the third day of Christmas…_

England braced himself, and entered the club that he was hoping to find America in. The floor vibrated with every pound of the music, and he winced at it. What had happened to the cultural boy he had raised? He listened to the music, trying to like it. "Hope her boyfriend doesn't mind what? Oh, that she kissed a… She kissed a WHAT? And she's singing a song about it? Bloody American idiots…" Shaking his head, he began to look for America.

A man jumped on the stage, and announced that it was time for karaoke. England groaned, as if the actual singers weren't bad enough? A woman hopped up to the mike, and began to sing enthusiastically. England watched her with admiration. She was a good dancer, even by his standards. Soon she began to sing, and his jaw dropped. "This is what America listens to? What is this even about?"

The woman continued singing. "Riot! Riot! Turn of the lights, we're gonna lose our minds tonight, what's the dealio? I love when it's all too much, 5AM turn the radio up, where's the rock and roll?"

England caught his hand tapping to the beat on the bar. "Oh no… Am I actually enjoying this trash?"

"Don't be fancy, just get dancy! Why so serious?"

He began to nod his head, and quickly ordered a beer to distract himself from the song.

"So if you're too school for cool, and you're treated like a fool, you can choose to let it go. We can always, we can always party on our own."

Giving in, England raised his beer. "So raise your glass!" He said, cursing as he came in a beat early. Shrugging, he downed the beer and smiled at the woman as she got off the stage.

He struck up a conversation with the bartender as the song continued, asking if he had seen America here that night. "A tall blonde man? Blue eyes and a bomber jacket? I was hoping to run into him here."

"Oh yes, you'll see him in a moment I'm sure. Alfred can never resist karaoke night." Said the bartender, wiping out England's used glass with a towel as he did so.

Thanking the man, England turned back to the stage. Another woman had gotten on the stage, and he examined her with his eyebrows raised. She looked like she had just slept in her clothes, woken up with a hangover, and decided to get even drunker than she had the last night. Her hair was greasy looking and full of glitter, her makeup was blotchy, and her mascara was thick. Opening her mouth, she began to belt out the words to the song playing. "There's a place downtown where the freaks all come around! It's a hole in the wall, it's a dirty free for all, and they-"

England tuned out in an attempt to save brain cells, and turned his attention to the girl who had sat down next to him. "Excuse me miss, but have you seen Alfred Jones here tonight?"

She looked at him blearily. "Alfred? Yeah, he's dancing with Marissta."

"Marissa?"

She gave him a look that clearly said 'you idiot, am I not speaking English' and repeated herself. "MarissTa." Suddenly she seemed to remember something. "You have a British accent."

England nodded, unaware of the significance of British accents to American girls. "Yes, I'm from England. Alfred is one of my friends across the pond, and I thought I'd drop in and surprise him, but that bloody wanker is nowhere to be found."

Ignoring this, the girl scooted her barstool closer. Before she could speak again, a tall blonde man took the microphone. England excused himself, and joined the mob surrounding the stage with anticipation.

America flashed the club one of his trademark smiles, and began to speak. "I know you've been waiting all night for this, so I'll make my intro brief! I'm dedicating this one to one of my best friends Arthur, who lives in England. It describes him so well! In fact, he should be the one singing it. I love you Arthur, wherever you are!" The crowd laughed, and he waited for them to quiet down before continuing.

"Anyways, this isn't my favorite song by Fergie, and it's kinda old, but they don't have London Bridge in the selections! I'll make them change that by next week. I'll still be awesome, and you know why?" The club joined in, screaming at the top of their lungs. "BECAUSE I'M THE HERO!" Laughing and clapping, they cheered for America as he grabbed the mike and yelled, "Hit it!"

England watched this with a shocked expression. The energy put forth by these people was astounding! And America had dedicated the song to him… he blushed slightly at that. Had he really needed to yell that he loved him? Idiot…

America began to sing, clueless of the fact that England was here to witness what song America chose to describe him. "Fergalicious definition make them boys go loco. They want my treasure so they get their pleasures from my photo. You can see me, you can't squeeze me. I ain't easy, I ain't sleazy. I got reasons why I tease 'em, boys just come and go like seasons!"

England's eyes widened in shock. "I should be singing this? Bloody…"

"Fergalicious (so delicious), but I ain't promiscuous. And if you were suspicious, all that - is fictitious. I blow kisses, mmmwwahhh." He winked at the crowed, causing several girls to scream. England rolled his eyes. "That puts them boys on rock, rock. And they be lining down the block just to watch what I got!"

By the time the song was over, England was thoroughly confused. Was that really what America thought of him?

America pressed two fingers two his lips and shot the club a peace sign. "I'm outta here y'all, it's time for me to crash! See you next week, same time, same place!" He vaulted off the stage, and was out the doors in a flash.

England hurried after him, and jumped in the first cab he saw outside. He gave the driver America's address, and sat back to think as they drove down the road. What exactly had that meant?

…_Three karaoke singers, two confessions, and an invitation to a pervert's party._

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Don'tcha just love open-ended chapters? Reviews make me type faster. Just saying.


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